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Tag Archives: classics

Here’s a passionate argument, taking its cue from the Slow Food Movement, in favour of slow reading; not just any old fiction mind you but proper ‘literature’. Since it rates reading as the most virtuous of pastimes (and reading of the classics as the most virtuous of the virtuous) I should be won over, but….

I certainly agree that what we fill our minds with is as important as what we choose to eat; who wouldn’t compare the satisfaction and intellectual nourishment from a well plotted classic with the sense of well-being felt after a good meal? And as someone who seems to reach for the classsics (older and more modern) almost by default, I should be shouting loudly in favour of such a movement. I was especially taken with this line,

“…individuals who frequently read fiction seem to be better able to understand other people, empathize with them, and see the world from their perspective.”

If that is the case then EVERYONE should be reading more fiction as empathy is something we could do with a lot more of. I would only hesitate in being so severe, as Maura Kelly is, on other forms of entertainment and indeed reading. Great television shows can also illuminate, stimulate and make us smarter. They too can help us engage with contemporary issues and figure out where we stand. TV doesn’t have to be mindless entertainment. And surely a Slow Books Movement shouldn’t be confined to literature alone? What about all the polemists, academics and worthy commentators competing for our attention? Non-fiction is too important to omit.

So the premise is an excellent one but let’s not put too many barriers in place before we even begin. Less rules and more reading!

So, it’s only taken since Christmas, but last week I finally finished reading Crime and Punishment on the Kindle. For anyone unfamiliar with the premise, you can read a synopsis and background here. Rather than cover that well-worn ground, I’ll attempt to give my own impressions of this most serious of novels.

This is not an easy read. But you knew that. Yet, it’s not the language or themes that are difficult to grasp, more the unrelenting gloom and paranoia which make it a hard slog. There is poverty, despair, madness and brutality here in abundance. To counteract this, I had a preconceived notion that remorse and redemption would play a large part. I was wrong. There is a surprising lack of genuine remorse shown by Raskolnikov for his crimes. Only at the very end does he seem to undergo a spiritual transformation but even then it is underexplained given all that has gone before.

What kept me reading was the acute psychological portrait of a man in turmoil. It is a visceral portrayal of anguish and yet Dostoevsky keeps his character poised between narcissistic anti-hero and pathetically misdirected intellectual. As with Notes from the Underground, it is his ability to empathise with and articulate the vicissitudes of the human condition that stands out.

The political and social condition of Russia at the time is important in adding context to Raskolnikov’s actions (any introduction to the text will explain this much better than I can!) and the city of St Petersburg, in all its filth and squalor, is a character in its own right albeit one that I was happy to say goodbye to by the time I’d finished.

Overall, I found it one of those novels that I admired rather than enjoyed.